It Goes Without Saying
by SpecialAgentWho13
Summary: A young autistic boy is the only witness to the murders of two U.S. Marines. But he won't say a word. Can the team get him to talk and solve the murders before the killer escapes? And how will they be affected by this seemingly unremarkable little boy?
1. Chapter 1

I'm testing the waters on this story to see how it goes and if there would be enough people interested in it for me to continue. I already have a few chapters written so updates would come pretty quickly/evenly.

This takes place after the finale, but for the purpose of this fic, I'm pretending the last scene with the new SecNav, Vance, and Tony didn't happen.

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><p>This was something he had never seen before. He read about it in books sometimes. He liked to read. He even saw it on a TV show once, before his mother changed the channel. But he'd never seen the real thing. A real live murder. Two murders.<p>

The ugly, sweaty man was holding two guns, one in each hand.

He watched the scene unfold in the clearing below him with fascination. The clearing was in the woods near his house. He liked to go there with his books and read in the trees. Today he didn't want to read, though. He watched the events occurring below with avid curiosity.

The ugly man pointed his guns at two guys wearing uniforms. They were holding money and bags of white stuff. Maybe it's sugar, he thought. There was sugar in the pantry at his house. He liked to eat it sometimes but then his parents would catch him and they would take it away. He didn't like that very much. But he did like sugar.

BANG! The ugly man that had given the uniformed men the sugar fired one of his guns. A red spot bloomed on the chest of the taller of the two and he fell down.

"Give me the money!" The ugly man yelled.

"Put the guns down!" The short uniformed man said. The tall one was still lying on the ground. He wasn't moving and the red blood was spreading everywhere.

"I will kill you right here. Give me the money, NOW."

"Forget it. You killed him! This was supposed to be quick and easy. Tell your boss to forget it. Deal's off, understand?" The short man started to walk away. He was taking the money with him.

BANG!

The ugly man shot him too. Then he picked up the sugar and the money and looked around. He ran off into the woods and left the two bloody men wearing uniforms in the clearing. They were probably dead. Murdered.

The boy's sparkling blue eyes stared down in amazement.

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><p>Thanks for reading.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, I got some nice responses for the first chapter so I'm going to post the next one. Readers can expect an update probably every Thursday (in my time) as long as I keep up, which MIGHT not happen and I will apologize for that in advance. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer- This is the only time I'm going to say it: Of course I don't own it.

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><p>"Gear up," Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs commanded as he strode into the bullpen. He grabbed his gun, badge, and keys off his desk. "Guy walking his dog found two dead marines in the woods."<p>

"Where at, Boss?" DiNozzo asked as he and his two coworkers gathered their things.

"Woods are near a residential area in Waldorf, Maryland. Local cops said no one reported any disturbances until now," Gibbs informed them as they stepped into the elevator.

"How close is the crime scene to the nearest houses?" McGee asked.

"I don't know, McGee," his boss replied. "Why don't you figure it out when we get there?"

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><p>They parked on the nearest road, grabbed the necessary gear, and followed one of the local cops through the forest to the crime scene.<p>

"McGee, photos. DiNozzo, bag and tag. David, witness statement," Gibbs commanded. Then he walked away to talk with the two policemen.

McGee began photographing the bodies before Ducky started to examine them and then squatted down to run their prints against the portable AFIS scanner.

"Special Agent David, NCIS," Ziva told the dog walker. He was wearing a burgundy tracksuit and held a leash that was connected to a large, panting black dog.

"Casey Donovan," he replied. "I live in one of the neighborhoods near these woods. I take Sully for a walk through here nearly every day. But I usually switch up my routes so this is the first time I've been through here in a while."

"Do you remember hearing any gunshots or seeing anyone suspicious in the area recently, Mr. Donovan?"

"Nah, nothing. Sorry. I just stumbled across these two. Scared the shit out of me. Called the cops."

"Okay, thank you for your help." Ziva nodded, smiled, and strode away.

"Whaddya got for me, Duck?" Gibbs asked, leaning over the elderly medical examiner and the bodies.

"Not a lot at the moment, Jethro. These men perished within minutes of each other. This one here," he pointed the body he was currently examining, "likely suffered a bit before he died. Exsanguination from a gunshot wound to the neck."

"Boss, this is Private First Class José Lopez. He's not on active duty at the moment and he's in the same platoon as this guy here," McGee indicates the other body. "His name is PFC Preston King. Both have family living in Virginia."

"Yes, well," Ducky continued, "Mr. King here did not suffer like his friend. From what I can tell, the young lad died almost instantly from one gunshot wound to the heart. I could not find any exit wounds so I presume the bullets are still in the bodies. They have been dead for only a few hours. I'll know more when I get them back to autopsy."

"Get on it, Duck. We-"

He was interrupted by a shout from DiNozzo, who was now getting help from Ziva in collecting evidence. "Hey!"

"What, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, irritated.

"Boss, Ziva's throwing things at me," Tony whined.

"I am not!" Ziva said indignantly.

"Well you're the only person close enough, Zee-vah!"

"I am NOT throwing things at you, Tony."

"Hey-" Tony stopped when another twig dropped on his head. Everyone looked upwards to the tree Tony and Ziva stood by. A young boy sat on a branch and stared down at them. As they watched, the child dropped another twig on Tony's head.

The boy looked to be about nine or ten and had short dark hair, bright blue eyes, and freckles. He was wearing a blue and white striped polo shirt, blue jeans, and black high-top Converse and holding a book in one hand.

"Hey!" Tony shouted. "Get down here, kid!"

The boy did not respond but instead squeezed his eyes shut.

Gibbs turned to the policemen standing nearby. "Who is this kid?"

The elder of the two shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. He hasn't come through since we've been here. Must've gotten here before then."

"I never saw him," Donovan stated from his position as far from the bodies as possible. As if in agreement, Sully barked.

"Hey, kid," Tony called again. "I said get down here."

The boy continued to ignore him, eyes remaining shut.

"We'll go see if we can track down his parents in the nearest neighborhood," the first policeman told them. He and his partner started back through the woods.

"Can I go now?" Casey Donovan, the dog walker, asked.

"Yeah, sure," Gibbs replied and man and mutt quickly made their exit. "DiNozzo," Gibbs nodded toward the tree. "Get him down from there."

"What? Why me, boss?"

"Just do it, DiNozzo."

"Yes, Boss!" Tony spit on his hands and rubbed them together dramatically before he began his slow ascent toward the branch on which the boy sat. When he was finally level with it, Tony reached out and put a hand on the kid's arm.

He opened his mouth to speak when the boy let out a piercing scream that nearly shocked Tony into releasing his grip on the tree.

"Jeez," he exclaimed. His colleagues on the ground stared up in shock.

The boy continued to emit piercing shrieks as Tony gripped his arm and pulled him towards him. The child started to struggle and, in the process, dropped his book, which fell and bounced off Ziva's head before coming to rest in a bush. Ziva yelped and Tony shouted as he tried to secure the kid against his hip and climb back down the tree. About halfway, the struggling and screaming child kicked Tony in the crotch and Tony, now in great pain, involuntarily released his grip on him. The boy screamed even louder as he plummeted toward the ground. Gibbs started to run but he knew he wouldn't make it. Only Ziva was close enough and she moved as quickly as she could, trying to brace herself for the impact of the boy. While he couldn't have weighed more than seventy pounds, the speed at which he landed in Ziva's arms caused her to lose her footing anyway and she landed on the brush covered ground with a thud and an "oomf." She broke the child's fall, though, and it knocked the wind out of her. He rolled off of and away from Ziva and stopped screaming, curling into a fetal position in the dirt.

Tony finally collected himself enough to climb down the rest of the way and limped over to help Ziva off the ground. Gibbs rushed up as well and bent down to rest a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder but quickly retracted it when his eyes shot open and the shrieking started up again until the Special Agent in Charge backed away.

"Duck," he said. "Get the bodies back to NCIS, start the autopsy. McGee."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Bring all the photos and evidence back to Abby and start finding whatever you can on the victims. Take the truck."

"Yes, Boss."

Tim, Ducky, and Palmer quickly gathered the evidence bags and rolled the bodies of the two marines on gurneys out of the clearing and down the path through the woods. Gibbs sighed, glancing down at the skinny little boy curled up on the ground. Not wanting to start the screaming up again, he let him be and turned to check on his two remaining agents. Tony seemed to have fully regained his composure and was now leaning against the tree watching his partner pick leaves and pine needles out of her hair. Ziva was using one arm to cradle her ribs as well.

Gibbs frowned. "Ziver, you okay?"

"I am fine, Gibbs," Ziva replied as she suppressed the urge to wince.

"You're going to Bethesda to get checked out."

"I-"

"No arguing. You're going."

"Fine," Ziva huffed. She rolled her eyes.

Moments later there was a rustling in the brush along the trail and the two policemen from earlier emerged with a worried couple following behind them. The woman was short but lean and muscular, with light brown hair and blue eyes identical to those of the boy. The man was taller and well-built and had thick brown hair that was streaked with gray, brown eyes, and a thin layer of stubble on his chin. They ran over to their son and knelt down but did not touch him. Instead they spoke in comforting tones in an attempt to get his attention.

"Tyler, sweetie. It's okay, it's okay," his mother soothed.

"C'mon, buddy. Everything is alright. Sit on up now, Ty," the father told him. "Nobody is going to hurt you."

As the woman continued to cajole her son into getting up, the man rose and turned to Gibbs.

"I'm Jonah Woodbury and that's my wife, Nicole, and my son, Tyler."

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." They shook hands.

"What happened here?"

"Two marines were murdered. A guy found them while walking his dog through here. Your son was sitting up in that tree there when we found him. One of my agents got him down, kicking and screaming. Were you aware that he was out here in the woods by himself, Mr. Woodbury?"

"Yes. He likes to come out here and read all the time because it's quiet and usually deserted. Tyler is autistic. He doesn't like to be touched and doesn't take well to new people. I'm sorry if he caused you and your agents any trouble, Agent Gibbs, but he really can't help it," Woodbury explained.

"It's fine." Gibbs nodded to Nicole and Tyler, who was now sitting next to his mother with his knees pulled tight against his chest. "How old is he?"

"Ten." It was Nicole that spoke this time. "He's our only child. Our house is really close by, so it's not like we let him wander around wherever. He's very smart and he knows his boundaries. This is where he always comes to read on nice days."

Tyler remained silent. He hadn't made a sound since his last scream.

"It's possible that Tyler witnessed the two murders in this clearing today. And the killer might have seen him as well," Gibbs told them. "We'll need you to bring him in to NCIS in D.C. to see if he will tell us anything relative to the case and also for his safety."

Mrs. Woodbury nodded. "Sure, okay. We'll need to go back to the house to get some things but..."

"I need to take one of my agents to the hospital so these officers can escort you. We will be there soon to talk and make arrangements."

"Okay. Come on, Tyler. Let's go, sweetie." Jonah, Nicole, and Tyler Woodbury slowly followed the two cops back down the trail and out of sight.

"Alright, you two, let's go," Gibbs said once they'd left.

"Comin', Boss," Tony replied. He looked inquisitively at his partner.

Wincing, Ziva leaned down and retrieved something from a bush. It was Tyler Woodbury's book. _Here's Looking At Euclid_ by Alex Bellos. Flipping through it, she thought it seemed a little advanced for a ten year old, but she couldn't be sure. She stuffed the book in her jacket pocket and started after Tony and Gibbs. This case was going to be interesting.

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><p>Sorry it's kind of short. I'm not exactly sure how long any of the chapters I've written are. Anyway, the book I mentioned in this chapter is actually very good (or at least I think so). But then again, I love math (gosh, that sounds nerdy) so it's naturally appealing. Those of you that think math is the worst thing ever invented may have differing opinions. Reviews greatly appreciated!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, here's the next chapter for you guys. Sorry it took a while, but I was having issues with FFN this morning. And thanks for alerting and reviewing and I'm sorry all of these chapters are so short. I have 1-6 already written but I'll try to make seven and on a bit longer. Also, I just wanted to add for some clarification to any of you that need it that Tyler is relatively high-functioning autistic, which will become a bit more apparent in later chapters.

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><p>Forty minutes later, Tony, Gibbs, and Ziva sat in an exam area in the emergency room of Bethesda Naval Hospital as a doctor looked over Ziva's injuries.<p>

"Well, Agent David, your injuries don't appear to be too bad. Just some light bruising on your ribs and a very minor concussion." He turned to Gibbs. "She'll be fine in a couple of hours. Maybe sore for a day or two. Some common painkillers will work fine for that. Just keep an eye on her if you can."

"I have had worse. I can take care of myself," Ziva huffed.

"I don't wanna hear it, David," Gibbs replied. He turned to the doctor and nodded. "Thanks. C'mon, you two."

They left the hospital and drove quickly back to NCIS. McGee greeted them at the entrance to the bullpen when they arrived.

"Boss, the kid and his parents are here. I put them in the conference room. And the cops from Waldorf left already."

"Alright, McGee. Whaddya got for me?"

"Right." McGee moved over to his desk and picked up the remote for the plasma as the others gathered around behind him. He pulled up the service record for José Lopez.

"Private First Class José Lopez, twenty-three years old. In and out of foster homes as a child before he was finally taken out of the system by his paternal grandfather when he was fourteen. Graduated high school in Virginia at eighteen, joined the Marines, and been there ever since. Only one blemish on his record for challenging a superior officer. His grandfather died during his second year in the Corp. and he has no other listed family." McGee clicked the remote again and brought up the other victim's record. "PFC Preston King was a model soldier, no problems from him. Grew up in a small New Jersey town with his parents and two younger sisters. No wife or kids, just like Lopez. He's twenty-four and has been in the Marines since he joined in '07 after graduating from a community college with a two-year degree. I briefly spoke to their CO and he told me Lopez and King have been close friends since they met when PFC King joined. I didn't ask him anything else."

"Good work, McGee. Start working on their bank and phone records. DiNozzo, talk to the CO again. See what else he can tell you about King and Lopez."

"On it, Boss."

"Ziva, go see if the Woodburys need anything. Stay with them. I'll be up after I talk to Abbs and Ducky."

"Yes, Gibbs."

Gibbs made his way to the elevator and disappeared behind the sliding silver doors.

The doors slid open again with a DING and Gibbs stepped out and through the entrance to autopsy.

"Ah, Jethro," Ducky greeted cheerfully. "Just in time, as always."

"Whaddya got for me, Duck?"

"Well, I have nearly completed my examination of PFC Lopez here. PFC King, I have already finished with," Ducky explained. He gestured to Lopez's neck, which was cut open for a better internal view. "I have extracted the bullet. A nine millimeter. It was lodged in the bone and cartilage of the poor lad's neck. Mr. Palmer has taken it and the other evidence up to Abby." Ducky set his scalpel down and turned fully towards the body. "Cause of death was indeed exsanguination from this neck wound. Other than the bullet, I did not find anything of interest on Mr. Lopez."

"What about King?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"Now, now, Jethro, I just was getting to that." Ducky moved around the autopsy table to stand by another, where Preston King's body lay cut open. "PFC King died from a bullet as well, this one traveled through his heart at an angle and embedded itself in his spinal cord. But it was a different kind of bullet. A .32 to be exact. There must have been more than one killer," he speculated.

"Or one killer, two guns," Gibbs replied.

"Yes, there is that. I suppose only the boy would know. And he hasn't spoken?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Haven't talked to him yet."

"And Ziva? How is she? The poor dear took a bit of a tumble when she caught the child," Ducky said, frowning.

"She'll be fine. She's with the kid and his parents now. I'm goin' up to talk to 'em, soon as I see Abby," Gibbs told him, already turning to walk out the door. "Anything else, Duck?"

"Not at the moment, Jethro," Ducky called. There was no reply as the Autopsy doors slid shut behind him.

One of Abby's computers beeped as soon as Gibbs stepped into the lab, coffee and Caf-Pow! in hand.

Abby spun around and grinned. "I don't know how you do it, bossman. You _must_ teach me your magicky mojo ways." She wiggled her fingers at him as though casting a spell.

Gibbs gave her a nearly imperceptible grin and stopped a few feet from where she stood, holding the Gothic scientist's favorite caffeinated beverage just out of her reach.

Abby frowned. "Not nice, Gibbs," she said.

"Tell me what ya got, Abbs."

"Okay. First things first. The bullets? Totally different. Nine mil slug in Lopez and a .32 in King. No hits in ballistics yet. Second, I just got the results back on a shoe print Tony found. It's a male size eleven Doc Martin boot and it doesn't match either of the victims or anyone else on the scene. Tony said it was found in some mud near the edge of the clearing. Anyone else the print could belong to?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Guy that found them was wearing running shoes. Cops were wearing somethin', not boots."

Abby smiled. "So it could be the killer's."

"Could be."

Abby's smile dropped as she glanced longingly at the Caf-Pow! in Gibbs's hand.

"You done?" he asked.

Her gaze didn't waver. "Until ballistics..." she trailed off and licked her lips, turning her head to stare pleadingly at Gibbs.

"Good work, Abbs."

Finally, he handed her the drink and she squealed happily. "Yay! Thanks, el jefe." He kissed her on the cheek.

"So, is it true?" she asked, stopping Gibbs from leaving.

"Is what true, Abby?"

"McGee said there was a little boy that witnessed the whole thing. And that he freaked out and wouldn't say anything."

Gibbs gave a terse nod. "He's ten. Autistic. Ziva's with him and his parents in the conference room now. I'm goin' there next."

"Can I meet him?"

"Not now, Abbs." On that note, Gibbs turned and breezed out of the lab. Hopefully they would be able to get _something_ out of Tyler Woodbury. The case may depend on it.


	4. Chapter 4

So sorry I didn't post this on time but I haven't read or written fanfiction all week so I forgot about it until just now. I also apologize that it's so short but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading.

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><p>Ziva knocked on the conference room door before turning the handle and pushing it open. Nicole and Jonah Woodbury glanced up from where they sat watching Tyler work at a Sudoku book. He seemed to be moving through the pages relatively quick. Ziva smiled at them and closed the door behind her.<p>

"Hello," she greeted. "I'm Special Agent Ziva David. I'm on Gibbs's team. He will be up soon. Is there anything that I can get for you?"

Jonah Woodbury shook his head. "No thank you, Agent David. We're fine."

Ziva gave a small smile and sat down across from the couple, one seat between her and Tyler. She gave a barely noticeable wince as her ribcage was irritated.

Nicole Woodbury stretched out a hand and smiled nervously. "I'm Nicole. This is my husband, Jonah." The adults shook hands. "And I'm sure you've already met Tyler."

Ziva nodded. "Yes." She paused, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a book. It was Tyler's. The one he had been reading in the tree when they'd found him. "He, ah... dropped this when my partner was getting him down from the tree."

Ziva slid the book across the table toward Tyler. The boy looked at Ziva briefly before turning his attention to the book. His eyes lit up and he remained silent as he pushed the Sudoku book aside and slid the novel closer. He wasted no time in flipping it open to what Ziva assumed had been the page on which he'd left off, though there was no bookmark.

"Thank you," Nicole said sincerely. "His books mean a lot to him. Especially the math ones. Tyler isn't very good at socializing, obviously, and I think his books allow him to escape the the real and frightening world around him. He doesn't have any friends at school but he's incredibly smart. At math and science especially. I've read that there's some correlations between math adeptness and autism. Tyler's very good at piano as well." Nicole Woodbury stared at her son, pride and love in her eyes.

"Yeah. Sorry again for any trouble he might've caused," Jonah spoke up. "I hope no one was hurt. Your boss said before that he needed to take one of you to the hospital?"

Ziva shook her head. "Me. But there is no need to apologize, I am fine. It was nothing, really. I have had much worse."

Jonah nodded understandingly. "I can imagine."

There was a moment of silence before someone else spoke. "Do you have kids, Agent David?" Nicole asked.

"Please, call me Ziva." Ziva shook her head again, slowly. "And no. I do not have children."

Nicole smiled. "You're still young, though. Do you plan to?"

Ziva looked down and began picking at her sleeve, removing lint that wasn't there. "It is hard to know. In this line of work... You never know what may happen." She glanced up at the couple before her, trying to hide the traces of sadness in her eyes as she flashed back to the times when she would play with a young Tali and Ari. When things had been simpler. Yes, she was still young, not yet twenty-nine. But who could love her, really? She was damaged. Who knew if she could even bear children after... Somalia. Yes, there was Ray. He had said he loved her. But he'd given her a box before he left. An empty box, full of empty promises, that's what it was. Could she believe that he truly loved her? She wasn't sure.

"Well," Nicole said, breaking Ziva out of her reverie. "When you have kids," she looked at Tyler and smiled, "then it's hard to imagine a life without them. Things can get tough at times but... It's totally worth it."

Ziva gave a weak smile as she watched Tyler read his book. At that moment, Gibbs walked in, a fresh cup of his ever present coffee in hand.

"Gibbs," Ziva greeted as he sat in the chair beside her.

Gibbs gave his custom curt nod and reached out to shake Nicole and Jonah's hands again. He looked at Tyler, still reading his book. "Has he said anything yet?"

"No," Nicole stated sadly. "I'm sorry. We've tried asking him about what happened, but so far he's ignored us."

Jonah shrugged. "It's not that he's rude, it's just hard for Tyler to express himself in words. Which I know will make things difficult for you guys."

Gibbs nodded and looked at Tyler again. "I understand. We'll find a way." He sipped his coffee and stood. Can I speak to you outside, Mr. and Mrs. Woodbury?"

Both nodded. "Sure."


	5. Chapter 5

Here's the next chapter for you all. Hope it doesn't suck too badly. I'm leaving for vacation in a few days and won't be able to update next week, so I apologize in advance for that. Thanks for reading!

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><p>"Alright, thanks." Tony hung up his desk phone.<p>

"Anything new from the CO?" McGee asked.

"Commanding Officer Wyatt Warner had some good and bad things to say about King and Lopez. Told me they were great soldiers but they'd been acting strange lately. Warner said he'd set those thoughts aside until just now when I told him two of his men were dead. We'll have to go down later and talk to some of their platoon mates."

"Do it now, DiNozzo," Gibbs commanded as he breezed into bullpen. "Take McGee with you."

"What about Ziva, Boss?" Tony asked.

"She's keepin' an eye on the Woodbury boy while his parents head back to pack some things."

"Kid say anything yet?" McGee questioned.

Gibbs shook his head. "Nope. We'll get it though." He sat at his desk and punched the power button on his computer monitor with his thumb. The silver haired team leader always seemed angry when it came to electronics of any kind. "Now go. Stop wastin' time."

DiNozzo and McGee hurriedly snatched up their guns and badges and departed.

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><p>Ziva paced the length of the conference room in boredom while Tyler remained immersed in his book. I should be working the case, she thought. Chasing leads. Not up here watching a little boy read.<p>

She halted her pacing and lifted the pitcher of water off the counter by the windowsill. She poured two glasses, moving over to the table to sit down, then slid one glass across the wooden surface until it rested a few inches from Tyler's book. Ziva said nothing, doubting she would be granted with any response. She lifted her own glass to her lips and swallowed half the water in one gulp.

With a sigh, she pushed herself back up, careful of her ribs, and circled around the table. She kneeled down in front of the cabinet against the wall and pulled the doors open, spotting exactly what she was looking for. They kept a few board games in the conference room in case boredom- agents' or guests'- needed to be satiated. They were not overly exciting games, in fact, the Monopoly box had somehow lost half of its paper money reserve at some point. Who would want to steal or dispose of pretend currency, she had no idea. Ziva huffed out another sigh and slid the boxes of Scrabble and Chess out of the cabinet before shutting the doors and returning to her seat.

She still kept one chair between Tyler and herself for fear that, if she got any closer, he would scream again. Ziva placed the games on the table and stared expectantly at the boy out of the corner of her eye. She was hoping he would put down his book to play a game because she was dying of boredom sitting there in the silence.

To Ziva's surprise, Tyler looked up when she set the games down. He stared at them for a moment and Ziva bit her lip, wondering why she was so eager to play a simple board game with this boy. Sure, she liked children, but she had never really dealt with an autistic person before- child or adult. She knew a little about the disorder, like there was a whole spectrum of autism and those with high-functioning autism were actually quite normal despite issues with socializing. Nonetheless, Tyler Woodbury fascinated her for some reason. She wanted to understand the ten year old better.

Ziva watched as Tyler closed his book- still without marking a page- and reached for the Scrabble box hesitantly. He pulled it towards him and removed the lid, then extracted the board, two wooden racks, and the bag of letter pieces. He set these to his right, lining them up meticulously, and then replaced the lid of the box and pushed it forward and to the left, out of the way. Ziva continued to stare as he grabbed the board and unfolded in on the tabletop between them before setting a rack in front of himself and then Ziva. He lifted the silver-grey bag of letters, pulled out exactly seven, and lined them up on his rack neatly.

When he'd finished, Tyler looked up and stared briefly at Ziva before handing her the letter bag and proceeding to wait patiently as she drew out seven of her own tiles and placed them on her rack- granted, not as orderly as Tyler had. She looked back at him when she was done and waited for what he would do next. He returned her gaze for less than a second and then looked at his tiles for just as long before removing six of the seven and spelling out 'unique.' He reached into the bag and removed six more tiles to replace on his rack, then glanced at Ziva expectantly, eyebrows raised.

The former Mossad officer smiled and made her move. 'Cats.' She felt like she was getting somewhere now. Not with the game, of course. She was already losing.

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><p>"Tony, why can't you ever let me drive?"<p>

DiNozzo sighed theatrically. "Because, McGoo, I'm the Senior Field Agent. Therefore, I get to drive. Always." He stretched the last word out tauntingly and McGee glared.

"That's stupid. I-"

"Oh, quit your complaining, McWhineypants."

They were at the base where José Lopez and Preston King had been stationed before they were murdered. Tony and Tim were greeted by their CO, Wyatt Warner, who then led them to a common room filled with several men and women in uniform.

"My men, line up," Warner called. Eight men and three women moved over to them and lined up obediently. "I assembled the people that worked closest with King and Lopez for you, Agents," Warner explained.

Tony nodded. "Thank you, Colonel." Warner left and Tony and McGee began their interviews. Over the next forty-five minutes they talked to the Marines that were closest to King and Lopez and received hardly any information that was pertinent to the case.

There were various comments, all centering on how both were good guys and great Marines and no, there anyone they knew of that might want to hurt them. Some of the men and women were obviously closer to the victims than others.

"Lopez was a cool guy, from what I'd seen of him. I didn't really know him on a deep level," one woman, a Janet Coleman, had said.

Another soldier, a large-muscled man named Geoffrey Hulkin, had told Tony, "Oh, yeah, Peekay was a helluva guy." He sniffled, surprising the very special agent. "We were pretty damn close, not as close as him and José though. Gosh, I'm gonna miss that kid." Then Hulkin had teared up, further shocking DiNozzo, and the agent had let him leave to collect himself after being informed that there was nobody that hated 'Peekay,' a nickname which Preston King had picked up largely because of his initials.

Tony and McGee reconvened after the interviews and made their way back to the Charger, feeling as though they were leaving with less than they come and knowing that this fact would by no means be pleasing to Gibbs.

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><p>Tyler was beating her by 103 points and Ziva was beginning to wonder if the young boy had memorized the dictionary. He had used some words she knew she never would have put together with the given tiles. It was the simple words that were easy to see.<p>

"I don't like DiNozzo." His voice startled Ziva. It was the first time she had heard him make any noise that wasn't a scream.

She raised her eyebrows, unsure what to say to keep him talking. Finally she settled with, "Oh?"

Tyler nodded slowly, as if contemplating something. "Yes. He smells weird like the fragrance department at the mall. I do not like the fragrance department. Or the mall. There are too many people there and sometimes they try to talk to you." He was silent again as he placed three more tiles on the board.

"Yes," Ziva began, amused. "DiNozzo does often wear an excess amount of cologne."

Ziva remained surprised as Tyler spoke again, though this time on a completely different subject.

"Do you have a dog?"

"No, I don't"

"Do you like dogs?"

"Yes"

"I like dogs too because they can't talk so they can't say mean things and they are furry and like to lick you. I don't have a dog. I have a lizard. He is a bearded dragon and his name is Tangent because I like trigonometry and tangents are a part of trigonometry. I got Tangent when I was seven years and two months old and my mom says it is to teach me responsibility but I already know what responsibility is. Responsibility is the state or fact of being answerable or accountable for something within one's power but I don't think that Tangent knows this because he is a lizard and lizards do not speak or understand English so I do not understand why my mom thinks he will teach me responsibility."

It sounded like a definition straight from the dictionary to Ziva. It probably was. This was the most she had heard him speak so far and she found that she was enjoying listening to what the boy had to say.

"I see," she said. She set her last tile, an 'S,' on the board, officially ending the game with her at 112 points behind the ten year old beside her. Tyler smiled and swept the tiles from the board back into the bag. He shook the bag and removed seven new tiles before handing the bag to Ziva again.

Ziva, completely fine with playing another game, accepted it and collected her starting tiles. She had not expected what Tyler said next.

"He was bald and ugly."

Thinking she had somehow missed something, Ziva asked, "What?"

"And he had two black guns. And they had big plastic bags of money and white sugar. I like sugar."

Oh, Ziva realized excitedly, Tyler was talking about the marines' killer. "The bald man hurt the soldiers, Tyler?" she questioned hopefully.

Tyler nodded. "Yes, the men wearing uniforms." Then he made a gun with each hand and pointed them toward the wall opposite. "He shot one." Tyler jerked his left hand back, like a recoiling gun. "He said 'Give me the money.' 'Put the guns down!' 'I will kill you right here. Give me the money, NOW.' 'Forget it. You killed him! This was supposed to be quick and easy. Tell your boss to forget it. Deal's off, understand?'" He spoke the words as though he was reading them from a book or a script. "The other one was leaving with the money and the sugar. He shot that one." Tyler jerked his right hand back this time. "They are dead. The bald man left with the guns. He was sweaty. Then the man with the dog came. Then the police." He looked at Ziva. "Then you."

Ziva smiled. "Thank you, Tyler. This information you shared with me will be very helpful. You just helped us catch a bad man."

"Yes." Tyler appeared to be finished with Scrabble. He reached for his book and opened it to the exact spot he had left off on and did not speak anymore.

Ziva cleaned up the games and returned them to the cabinet. She strode to the other end of the room. She had to call Gibbs.


	6. Chapter 6

Oh, that's right, it's Thursday. My apologies. Anyway, blah blah, usual spiel, I don't own it, sorry if you think it's short, hope you enjoy the chapter. This is my last prewritten chapter so there's no telling when I'll find the time and/or motivation to write the next one. Plus, school's coming up soon and that means updates will be even less forthcoming (butt loads of homework, here I come). Well, thanks for reading!

* * *

><p>Gibbs glared at the phone sitting on his tabletop when it started to ring. He grabbed it and flipped it open with more force than strictly necessary. "Yeah, Gibbs," he growled.<p>

_"Gibbs, it's Ziva."_

"Ziva? What's wrong? You still upstairs with the kid?" He looked up as the elevator dinged and Tony, McGee, and Tyler Woodbury's parents stepped off.

_"No. Yes. Ah- no, nothing is wrong and yes, I am still with Tyler. I have a lead in the case."_

"I'll be right up," Gibbs told her. He shut his phone before he could hear Ziva's annoyed huff on the other end.

The Woodburys and his agents were standing in the center of the bullpen with various expressions coloring their faces.

Nicole Woodbury looked vaguely worried. "Is something wrong with Tyler?" She and her husband each had a black nylon duffle bag slung over their shoulder.

Gibbs shook his head. "Nah, he's fine. I have to go up there and talk to Agent David, I'll escort you up."

"Boss?" Tony called as they walked away.

"Wait here, DiNozzo."

Gibbs led Nicole and Jonah up to the conference room. He rapped on the door once before swinging it open and stepping into the room.

"Ziva," he said. He jerked his head in the direction of the hallway and then waved a hand through the air in a sideways motion to indicate that the Woodburys should head in and be with their son. Tyler still appeared to be doing exactly the same thing as when he'd left.

Ziva rose from her chair and slipped out into the hallway while Nicole and Jonah took her place in two adjacent chairs at Tyler's right.

"We'll be back to take you to the safe house in an hour," Gibbs informed them, and then made his way out, shutting the door behind him.

Gibbs and Ziva returned to the bullpen in silence.

"Boss," DiNozzo said. "McGee and I got nothing from King and Lopez's fellow Marines. We've a dry spell in this case. The only evidence in the woods was that shoe print and the bullets."

"Actually, Tony," Ziva interjected. "I may have something that will help us."

"And what would that be, Zee-vah?"

"Tyler Woodbury spoke to me."

"He did?" McGee interrupted. Gibbs glared and nodded at Ziva to continue.

"Yes. He told me a few things. One," Ziva held up her right index finger. "He does not like you, Tony, because you smell weird. And I agree. You are wearing far too much cologne today."

"Hey!"

McGee laughed. "It's true, Tony."

"Second, he has a pet lizard named Tangent which he got when he was seven years and two," she held up two fingers for emphasis, "months old."

"And how is this helpful to the case?" Gibbs asked angrily.

"It is not. But," Ziva raised her voice, staunching any impending protests, "he also told me something that is." She reiterated the story Tyler had told her earlier, inputting her theory that the white sugar was, in fact, drugs. Probably cocaine.

"So our victims were buying what was probably cocaine from a bald and sweaty drug dealer with a nine mil and a .32 wearing size eleven Doc Martin boots," Tony stated.

"Pretty much," McGee agreed.

"Get searching," Gibbs commanded. "Talk to the Waldorf cops. Talk to their CO. Figure out who this drug dealer is." He grabbed his keys, gun, and badge. "I'm taking the Woodburys to the safe house. I want something from you when I get back." He left without another word.

Tony, Ziva, and McGee returned to their desks.

"I'll go over their bank records again," McGee said. "I'll also try to get a subpoena for the bank records of the other platoon members to see if there's a connection."

Tony lifted his desk phone off the receiver. "I'll see if I can get ahold of the CO again. Could be something he's not telling us."

"And I will speak to the Waldorf cops and look into all of the bald drug dealers in the area," Ziva declared, only half joking.

Once they had all finished with their various tasks they gathered in the center of the bullpen in something reminiscent of the 'campfires' they'd had when Gibbs had been on his Mexican retreat.

"CO seemed genuinely surprised when I hinted at a drug connection. I'm inclined to believe him," Tony said. "I think we should check out the victims' apartments when Gibbs gets back."

"I agree," Ziva replied. "I spoke to Officer Joling from Waldorf. He tells me there have been some drug related deaths in the area recently but the Narcotics Division had not picked up the trails of any dealers. It is likely that PFCs King and Lopez met the dealer elsewhere and Waldorf was simply where the meet was set to take place. From what Tyler told me, I can gather that the bald man we are looking for is not the leader of whatever drug ring he is associated with."

"Well, the judge must have been in a good mood today because she actually granted my subpoena request despite the dearth of evidence we have so far," McGee said. He spun his chair and grabbed the remote off his desk, clicked it, and brought files up on the plasma.

"Don't do that," Tony ordered.

McGee furrowed his brow. "Do what?"

"Bring up bank records?" Ziva asked. She, too, was confused by Tony's command.

Tony shook his head. "Don't use words like 'dearth,' McDictionary," he clarified. "Makes you sound like a nerd."

"And why do you care if I sound like a nerd, Tony? I think you just don't know what it means. Don't worry, I'll try to dumb my vocabulary down more when I talk to you."

Tony glared. "Not true. I just- I-"

"You should stop while you are behind, To-nee," Ziva teased.

"Both of you shut up," Tony grumbled, verging on a pout. But DiNozzos did _not_ pout. "Just tell us about the money."

"Well I took a quick look at all bank records and found something interesting." He used the remote to zoom in and highlight four of the fourteen bank records on the screen. "Two of these belong to Lopez and King," he told them.

"And the others?" Ziva asked. She rolled her chair forward for a better look.

"Two of the eleven people that Tony and I talked to at base."

"Janet Coleman and Thomas Hendrickx," Tony read. "I talked to Hendrickx, he said he didn't really know either victim very well. What's the connection?"

"Janet Coleman said the same thing. But don't you find it odd that four people, who supposedly barely knew each other, would all make equal withdrawals from their bank accounts on the same day, two days before two of those four are found murdered? By a guy likely to be a drug dealer?"

"How much did they withdraw?" Ziva asked.

"One-fifty each."

"Seems kinda sloppy," Tony speculated. "If they were doing drugs, if they were in it together, they should have covered their tracks better."

"They're all young. Maybe naive. They must've figured they were too good to get caught," McGee said.

Gibbs voice startled them. They had not realized he'd been standing there almost the whole time. "McGee, you're with me. Let's go pick up Coleman and Hendrickx." The younger agent closed out of the records and snatched up his gear. "DiNozzo, David, go check out the apartments now."

The aforementioned agents nodded and complied. They grabbed their gear and boarded the elevator.

* * *

><p>"Lopez, King? King, Lopez?" Tony asked his partner as they drove out of the Navy Yard.<p>

"Whichever is most efficient," she replied.

"King, Lopez it is then."

The drive to Preston King's apartment took twenty-five minutes. They slammed the Charger's doors shut and made their way up the building's front steps.

"That was a waste of time," Ziva complained. "You should have let me drive."

"Well pardon me for wanting to live."

Ziva scowled and bit back a retort.

They did not bother with attempting to locate the manager. They simply ascended the staircase to the second floor bypassing the clearly broken elevator- its doors were missing, the light fixtures dangling from the ceiling, a mysterious stain adorning most of the formerly burgundy carpet. King's apartment was 2E, at the very end of the hall. The building didn't look much better than the elevator did. Rent here was likely cheap and King probably didn't mind the conditions. Given his profession, it was doubtful he spent much time there anyway.

They reached the door to apartment 2E and Ziva swiftly picked the lock and swung the door open, allowing them entrance.

"Jeez," Tony exclaimed, feeling along the wall near the door for a light switch. "Maybe the drug dealer is his neighbor." Finally, he found the switch and flicked it to the ON position, bathing the apartment in a soft yellow glow.

The layout of the apartment was conventional: kitchen to the left, living room on the right, separated by a hallway containing three doors. The kitchen and hallway each contained the same cheap, tan colored 'wood' flooring, warped by water damage. The living room was covered in an even cheaper carpet, short, scratchy, and a color that appeared to be a mix between light blue and off white- though it was hard to tell with the lighting- and spotted with stains in varying shades of brown.

Ziva grimaced, running a finger along a table that was blanketed in what seemed to be an inch of dust. She shuddered and brushed it off on the raggedy sofa that appeared to have come right out of a furniture magazine from the seventies. It was facing a small TV situated in the corner. "Disgusting." She eyed the empty beer bottles and assorted men's magazines resting on the coffee table as well.

They slowly picked their way through the front rooms, skirting around discarded pairs of running shoes and combat boots and avoiding the piles of dishes covered in dried and moldy food. They found nothing of interest. The first two doors in the hall were closets, on the right side. One, a typical coat closet containing two clear boxes of tax records, a single black windbreaker, and a vacuum and the other, a linen closet filled with dark green towels and plain white sheets. The last door, on the left, opened up into a small bedroom containing another closet, a three-quarter bath, a queen sized bed, and a dresser. The room was in a state of disarray similar to that of the other rooms. The bed was unmade; shirts, jeans, and undergarments littered it and the floor; the laundry basket in the corner was overflowing.

"This place is terrible," Ziva commented as she yanked open dresser drawers. She swatted a fly out of her face.

"I agree. But it's a typical young bachelor's place, so I'm not surprised." Tony lifted the mattress and peered under it, not shocked in the slightest to find a couple of condoms resting on the box spring. Oh yes, typical young bachelor. He dropped the mattress, letting it fall back into place.

"Bongo," Ziva announced suddenly. Tony turned with a look of confusion.

"You hear bongos? Maybe the neighbors are playing them."

It was Ziva's turn to look confused. "What? No, I do not hear bongos, Tony. I meant that I found something."

"Oh. Oh! You mean _bingo_, not bongo. A bongo is a drum. Bingo is a dog, a game, and what you say when you, well, discover something," Tony explained.

"Whatever," she glared. "We have better things to do than correct my English." She turned around and reached back into the open drawer.

"I'm just saying, you've been here for over seven years now, Zee-vah. Plus you're an American citizen. Don't you think you should know these things by now?"

"Tony, if you do not shut up, I will find a _bongo_ and kill you with it! Understand?"

He gulped and nodded.

"Now, like I said, I found something." She held up a small plastic baggie containing less than a teaspoon of what was undoubtedly cocaine. Tyler's story was checking out.

"Bingo," Tony grinned.


End file.
